Page 34 of Bratva’s Vow (Bratva’s Undoing #2)

A slow exhale left me. The sleep fog in my head burned off in an instant, replaced by something sharper. My jaw tightened. Muscles tensed. Blood woke in my veins like it had somewhere to go.

“You’re sure?” I flipped the lid on the toilet and unzipped my pants with one hand. My voice stayed even, but my pulse picked up. “This isn’t some trap?”

“No, your boy Aistov came through. He contacted Nik, and he and Sergei went to verify. We’ve got the chief zip-tied in the back of the van.”

A slow, dark satisfaction curled in my gut as I relieved myself, the steady trickle of piss hitting the water underscoring the faint hum of adrenaline now rising beneath my skin .

“Aistov never disappoints.”

“Should we take Stone to the spa?” Darius asked.

The spa was what we called the soundproof room beneath the old bathhouse on 82nd.

An inside joke that had grown teeth. There was no steam, no oils, no relaxing music.

Just tile floors, steel drains, and a single chair bolted to the ground.

A place where men went to sweat, scream, and come out cleaner—one way or another.

“Yes. Send someone to pick me up now. This can’t wait.”

I had to see Stone for myself. Was he the one who had attacked Vova? He needed to draw his last breath by my hand.

“See you in ten.”

The line went dead. I flushed, washed my hands, and splashed cold water on my face. Looked at myself in the mirror.

The man looking back was calm. Composed. Sharp jaw dusted with stubble, eyes unreadable. My lover’s scent still clung to my skin. His cum dried on my thighs. And now I was about to step into the kind of night that could never touch him.

I cleaned up quickly and stepped back into the bedroom.

The bedside lamp cast a faint amber glow. Wren must’ve turned it on, probably half-asleep. He was curled on his side, one arm outstretched across the rumpled sheets, blinking slowly when I entered.

“Babe?”

His voice was groggy. Thick with sleep.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I murmured, entering the closet. Black trousers. Long-sleeved shirt. Coat. “Go back to sleep.”

Wren pushed up on one elbow, eyes tracking my movements.

“It’s so late. Where are you going?” he asked softly .

I sat on the edge of the bed to lace my boots, then leaned over him, brushing his messy curls back from his forehead.

“I can’t answer that, solnyshko, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.” Wren lay there, looking up at me with quiet resignation and something else too. Something that twisted in my chest. Not fear. Not judgment. Just the ache of someone who knew he was still on the outside of something big. Something dark.

I bent forward and kissed him, curling my palm against the curve of his jaw.

“Wren, you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you?”

“Of course.” He brushed a hand over my shoulder. “I promised you. Didn’t I? If it makes you feel better, you can have one of your bodyguards stay here.”

I planned to anyway, but hearing him say it, placed a fresh bandage over the holes he’d ripped into my heart when he left me.

My phone vibrated, and I checked the message that popped up. It was Darius letting me know he was here.

“I have to go.”

I stood, grabbing my phone and keys, and turned to leave.

“Maxim?”

I paused in the doorway, glancing back.

He was still lying in bed, covers pooled low around his hips, lips parted like he wanted to say more.

But he didn’t. He just looked at me, his eyes full of fear.

And I understood.

“I’ll come home to you,” I said again, this time like a vow.

Then I slipped out, leaving behind the only softness I’d ever let myself have.

Outside, Darius and Dezi stood beside the idling SUV, coat collars upturned against the chill in the air.

I gave Dezi a nod, and he entered the house, closing the door behind him.

I wanted to trust that Wren would still be there when I returned, so I could only focus on Stone if I knew there was no possibility of Wren leaving again.

I climbed into the passenger seat, and Darius shut the door. He got in and pulled away without a word, tires humming against wet pavement.

“Where’d Aistov find him?” I asked.

Darius shifted gears. “Don’t know. He didn’t say.”

I frowned. “He just found him like that? No explanation?”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

“You’re telling me that after weeks of scouring every back channel, stakeout, and contact, Stone lands in our lap like a fucking pizza delivery?”

“I’m not saying I like it either,” Darius muttered.

Something was off. The whole thing stank of a setup, but for now, I shelved the unease. I needed to see him first. Needed to put my hands on the man who nearly killed me. Nearly killed Wren.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up at the abandoned bathhouse. The walls of the soundproof chamber in the basement still had old hooks where towels used to hang, and the drains in the floor made cleanup convenient. Ironic name. Brutal purpose.

Nik stood outside the lower entrance, flicking ash from his cigarette. “He’s inside.”

“Where’s Aistov?” I asked.

“Gone. Didn’t stay. Said the delivery was enough. He trusts you know where to send his check.”

Of course he didn’t. Fucking shadow ghost.

I stepped inside, Darius following me. The place always smelled like bleach and blood, even when freshly cleaned.

Stone sat slumped in the chair bolted to the center of the floor. His hands were zip-tied, legs shackled at the ankles. One eye was swollen shut. His nose looked like someone had folded it in half.

Sergei leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes flat. Nik sealed the door silently behind us.

As I approached, Stone lifted his head. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. The smugness that used to ooze off him was long gone. His good eye darted from me to Darius, then to Sergei. Panic had already cracked him open.

I didn’t say a word.

“Wait, let me?—”

I drove my fist into his broken face.

Another bone cracked. His head snapped sideways.

I hit him again.

“That’s for nearly killing me,” I growled between strikes. “And for going after Wren. For thinking you could touch what’s mine.”

Blood gushed from his nose. He coughed, spat out a tooth, and slumped forward in the chair, breathing in frantic little gasps.

“Please—” he wheezed, lifting his face. “Please wait. I know things. It’s not you. You got it wrong.”

I paused, breathing hard, fingers aching. “You better pray what you know is worth your life. ”

“I can tell you who—” Stone choked on blood and spat it out onto the floor. He raised his chin. “I can tell you who’s really behind?—”

A shot rang out, a hole buried in Stone’s skull, blood splattering my coat before I even registered the sound. His head jerked back, then sagged like someone snipped his strings.

We all froze.

For one beat.

Two.

“Fuck!” Nik barked, stumbling back.

“Door,” Darius snapped, gun drawn .

The door was swinging shut, metal hinges creaking.

Fucking hell. This was supposed to be the easy part, but we had a dead cop who swore he knew secrets and now no way to get them out of him.

Darius and Nik bolted. I stared at the lifeless body anchored to the chair in disgust.

Stone was dead.

After everything. After weeks of hunting him, he was dead. Not by my hand. Not on my terms. And that… that felt like something sharp digging into the back of my teeth.

I clenched my fists.

His body swayed slightly where it sat, bound and useless, head cocked to one side like a broken doll.

In a daze, I kicked the chair hard enough to send it crashing to the floor. His body hit the tiles with a sick thud, limbs tangled in the metal legs, blood spreading in a grotesque halo beneath his temple.

“Fuck!” I roared.

The echo bounced off the slick tiled walls and rolled back to me like a mockery.

“We should get you out of here,” Sergei said. “This location has been compromised.”

I didn’t budge.

“I need answers, Sergei,” I growled. “Who the fuck knew this spot? Who knew we’d bring him here when I found out half an hour ago?”

“We’ll figure it out. For now, let’s get you to safety first. Wren’s still waiting for you, isn’t he?”

Wren.

Sergei knew the right thing to say to get me to act. Scowling at him, I followed him out the door. We both had our guns drawn just in case. We hurried to his black sedan and got in. There was no sign of Nik and Darius. The car I’d arrived in was also gone .

The silence inside the vehicle was oppressive. No music. No chatter. Just the low hum of the engine and the sound of my blood pounding in my ears.

I didn’t speak.

Neither did Sergei.

He drove like always, controlled, steady, the wheel gripped in those big hands that had snapped men in half for less than what Stone had done. But I felt it in him. Tension, coiled tight and seething.

The spa wasn’t just any place. It was our place. Off-grid. Off-record. No cameras, no electronic footprints. The list of people who knew it existed was short, and most of them had been in that room tonight.

My jaw clenched.

I didn’t want it to be Aistov. But why the hell hadn’t he stuck around to ensure he got paid? Was he really capable of betraying me after all I’d done for him? After seeing what I’d done to Vasiliev.

My mind spun with every possibility, every face, every interaction from the last week—hell, the last year. Nik was loyal. Darius too. I’d known Sergei longer than any of them.

Loyalty was fragile in our world. Conditional. One wrong favor, one wrong bribe, one quiet threat to someone they loved…

Fuck.

If it had to be with one of them, then the best choice was Aistov.

But why? Greed?

My fingers twitched, itching for something to hit, to break, to bleed.

The room back there was supposed to be a release. Stone was supposed to scream. To beg. To bleed until my rage burned off in the aftermath.

But I never got the chance .

And now it was caged inside me.

Thrumming.

The wheel of my thoughts turned faster, grinding against itself. Stone had been ready to talk. That wasn’t desperation. That was fear. And fear meant truth. Whoever killed him hadn’t just wanted him gone. They’d been trying to keep something buried. Something big.

And if Stone was the one they killed, with four of us in the room… then what the hell did that say about who the shooter was?

If they were after me all this time, why hadn’t they taken the shot at me?

My phone vibrated against my thigh.

Darius.

“Please tell me you caught him,” I growled.

“Sorry, Maxim. We lost him,” he said. “There was a car waiting for him. Black Audi. We got the plates. Sending it now.”

A second later, my screen lit up with a number.

I stared at it like it might mean something. But it didn’t.

Because what the fuck was a license plate?

Forged in five minutes. Swapped in one.

Nothing real.

Nothing useful.

“Send it to Archie,” I said. He was the best at the tech side of things. He would know how to trace the plate. If it was traceable.

I hung up and sat back, exhaling slowly, jaw tight enough to crack.

This wasn’t over. Stone was dead, but nothing felt finished.

If anything, it felt like something worse had begun.

Sergei flicked a glance my way. “What are you thinking? ”

“The shooter had an opportunity. One shot. He could have killed me, but Stone seemed to be the bigger threat.”

“He wasn’t bluffing,” Sergei whispered. “He knew something. Something important, and it got him killed.”

“But how do we find out what?”

“Need me to put a tail on Aistov?”

Fuck.

He was thinking the same thing I was.

“Yes. Your best men. We can’t tip him off.”

Because Aistov was a crazy son of a bitch. If he was responsible and found out we were watching him, he’d be a problem.

And if he wasn’t?

He’d be worse.

I’d taken him in. Trained him. Taught him how to think cleaner, strike harder, disappear faster. I’d turned him into a better kind of monster. One with purpose, control, leverage.

Now that monster might be hunting me .

The irony tasted like blood in my mouth.